


Folie à deux

by BellJarred



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fic Trade, Reader-Insert, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellJarred/pseuds/BellJarred
Summary: Androids experiencing modern-day human society for the first time.Written For:  Hiromi (@ Lunaescence Archives)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Recipient: Hiromi  
> Prompt: Androids experiencing modern-day human society for the first time  
> Pairing: 2B/9S  
> Length: 2424 words  
> Written for Lunaescence Archives' Fic Trade 2017

“Uh, ma’am?”

Before, there was nothing—for whatever reason, for whatever amount of time, absolutely _nothing_. There was an emptiness that her sensors refused to process, overtaking every bolt and wire of her being. It was a blissful experience; she had come from nothing and, in time, been borne back into its folds. And so rare it was that she should have to relearn something! The first time she had slipped from the void’s grasp, it seemed as though everything she would ever need to know to function efficiently had been there as if they had been all along. There were no theatrical sensations of knowledge rushing to her—of absorbing something for the first time. There was simply nothing, and then everything at once.

It occurred to her—a vivacious rush of information she had not already accrued—that parting ways with the emptiness was not a concrete endeavor. She and all that she was had not simply blinked into existence for the betterment of her organization this time, but rather had she been awoken by the momentous chug of everything she had _never_ wanted to know…wanted to feel. 

“Ma’am, are you…operational?”

_Nines._

Her eyes, a listless gray, slid open with great reluctance. Above her, she saw her own eyes staring at back at her—or at least the eyes she could have had in another life. And she marveled at how easy it was for the shade—so designated for all of YOHRA’s newer models—to slip so fluently between a listless gray and a lively gunmetal.

Something about the way his eyes glistened back at her, reflecting a level of concern that should have been incapable for her kind to feel, or perhaps about the way the word “operational” tripped past his lips uneasily, as if he—a machine himself—were not meant to sound so robotic, put every inch of her processing capabilities to existential thoughts: was it better to feel this—this ineffective cocktail of emotions that stirred within her—or to feel nothing, be nothing without him?

“Sufficiently functioning,” she replied curtly, rising to her feet with an effortlessness that scarcely suggested the presence of the heeled boots currently equipped. She couldn’t be certain of this without her Pod, of course, but, at the very least, her optics appeared to be running just fine. “Though performance scans are hardly an option without an available Pod.”

“Now that you mention it,” 9S began, bringing a hand to his chin. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever found myself without one.”

 _Except_ , she quipped bitterly to herself, her entire body now rigid, _for every time I’ve watched you die. It’s hard to calculate a precise number of times your pod has been temporarily transferred to me._

“Such an occurrence is peculiar, as are our surroundings,” she retorted evenly, and the two of them allowed their orbital programming to make quick work of processing the surrounding area. In fact, upon further expression, their whereabouts were hardy familiar.

Outstretched before them was not but wilderness to be observed: a carpet of vibrant vegetation pushed outwards from beneath their feet, its parameters only loosely defined by a parallel run of neglected asphalt and the occasional peppering of gangly saplings, and, overhead, a modicum of cool blue hung like the prettiest of pictures either of their databases had ever absorbed. 

In essence, it was a far cry from the crumbling ruins of the world they had known. Where were the examples of failing architecture, the carcasses of opponents long dead—so prevalent and so archaic that they had become permanent fixtures of their environments, the underlying paranoia in their programming that suggested danger ways always just around the corner?

“All of my data suggests that the soil of this planet is too unstable to support new growth,” 9S reasoned, his hands ghosting along the branch of a nearby sapling. 

“It seems as though your data is failing,” 2B mused tartly, immediately regretting her tone. She hadn’t meant to sound so agitated with him for such a harmless appraisal. Yet, when she looked at him, she always felt a rage threatening to boil over. It was not always at him—not unless it was in lieu of his cat-killing curiosity, of course—but rather in regards to the roles they were made to play, and in regards to the cruel universe that would suggest they play them. “We should attempt to rendezvous with command as soon as possible.”

An awkward silence overtook the pair as they fell into step—the good little soldiers that they were. Wordlessly, 2B had appraised that the asphalt terrain was better suited for swift travel, and the two of them found themselves falling into step against long stretch of pavement before them. An occasional songbird trilled in the distance, and the sound carried with it a gentle breeze.

2B kept one hand firmly around the hilt of her sword—an accessory that had, miraculously done a better job of staying by her side than the military visor she now felt naked without—whilst another patted impatiently at a few of her silvery strands which so dared to dance in the wind. Everything around her projected a sense of security and calm, as if to suggest that they were not two sitting ducks, Podless, in the midst of a war. She would not be fooled by the gentle caress of the afternoon sun against her skin, nor the beauty of a chaste birdsong 

“I don’t know what’s going on, ma’am,” 9S began after having walked for quite some time, “but this atmosphere is certainly a rare treat!” His statement was accompanied by a dramatic twirl of his airborne hands and a cheerful skip to his step.

“Hardly,” 2B sniffed, and her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened. She had learned again and again—no matter how lovely the moment—to never get comfortable. It was a lot like her relationship with Nines, she supposed. As alive as she began to feel in those moments when, regardless of her attempts to remain as otherwise, their bond began to depend, it was always only a prelude to that moment in the future where she found her fingers curling around his throat or his sword slicing clean through his abdomen. 

“You don’t have to be so sour,” 9S pouted, crossing his arms behind his head in a carefree manner. “One day, I’ll take you shopping and make that perpetual frown of yours disappear, you’ll see!”

His determination was heartbreaking to her. After all, how many times had it been now that he had declared as such? How many times had they performed this song-and-dance of prophesized shopping trips and “Call me Nines!” exactly?

“We’ll see,” she murmured, willing away any hints of sadness her voice might drop. Fortunately for her, their journey had finally reached an eventful conclusion. The abundance of foliage had thinned the farther along they had walked, and they now found themselves observing the abrupt transition from vegetation to architecture—only, it appeared that most of these buildings were not just intact, but well-maintained as well. A spectrum of pastels assaulted their vision—a uniform collection of two-story buildings in soft shades of mint, salmon, and cornflower blue. To be sure, although these manmade structures seemed to tower over the both of them, they were nothing compared to the sheer magnitude of the dilapidated castles of the world she had known.

“Tag, you’re it!” 

Her sword was drawn and her assault stance was assumed before she had even had the time to process the foreign exclamation. Her eyes shifted apprehensively about the area before locking upon what appeared to be a gathering of short-statured androids. She racked her memory files for anything that remotely resembled the specimen at hand, but this method was inconclusive at best. These androids looked nothing like any model she had ever seen before, and, most worrisome of all they all appeared to be _different_ unfamiliar models. 

Not a one of this group looked similarly to each other—in the way that she and Nines had been designed to, at least—and not a one of their uniforms matched. Upon further inspection, this group, a rag-tag assemblage of four, appeared to be participating in a combat exercise as they flittered about the fenced-in enclosure of a pastel pink building. They fought without weapons, instead electing to simulate assault via the means of chubby outstretched hands. 

“Tag, you’re it!” A voice repeated—although this speaker had been a different one from the one she had first heard, as one of the androids, a unit characterized by a head of flaming orange locks and a nasal feature that appeared to be leaking—she assumed as such due to the trail of transparent green that seemed to be snaking down the unit’s face, lightly brushed its hand against the shoulder of another. 

“A new stealth unit?” she theorized, sheathing her sword quietly. Perhaps they were built so small for the sake of surveillance?

“I’m not so sure,” 9S answered in an excited whisper. The smaller androids had not yet noticed them from their position on the road, but 9S, ever the inquisitive one, aimed to remedy this a soon as his commanding officer would allow. “but we should greet them! Uh, that is to say, perhaps they can get us in touch with command.”

2B and 9S ambled quickly over to the group of shorter models who noticed them only once they had gotten closer, clearly having been too absorbed in their training exercises to detect a new arrival.

“Wow, a sword!” one of the androids cooed, alerting its compatriots to 2B’s presence at last. “Can I play with it?”

2B’s brow furrowed at this request—what it possible there was a model more childish than the 9S? 

“Can you contact the command center? What are your model numbers?” she inquired sharply, electing not to answer their questions until they had fulfilled her own.

“Model number?” a smaller android queried, putting an index finger to its lips. “My mommy says that I’m five years old.” 

“Mommy?” 2B repeated, and the word felt funny against her lips. “My database lacks explanation upon this word. _Whatever_. Have you at least been supplied with a means for contacting command?”

“Ma’am,” 9S began tentatively, his eyes widening considerably. “I don’t think these are androids.”

“Then what are they” 2B asked, her fingers ensnaring the hilt of her sword once more. She was well aware of the processing power supplied to 9S models, after all it was what had made them dangerous to YOHRA—it was what made her model necessary in the first place, but these units hardly seemed like enemy units. Honestly, what could they have been besides ineffectual new models?

“I think—”

“We’re people, just like you! My dad says no matter what you look like or what you like, we’re all people in the end!” another unit chirped, seemingly the most well-spoken of the group. 

“ _People_?” 2B muttered—yet another word her processor struggled with. However, unlike with “mommy” there were synonyms to be found: homo sapiens, mankind, **humans**. “For the glory of mankind.”

She was surprised to discover that the words had escaped her mouth before she’d had the time to think better of it—a reflex literally built into her core. What she was not surprised about, however, was the chorus of 9S’s voice behind her own.

“H-how can this be?” she sputtered, her thoughts refusing to align this new observation with the contrary information her processor _knew_ to be fact—humans are extinct.

“I can’t believe this!” 9S exclaimed, his eyes virtually morphing into jubilant little stars. “All this time we’ve been for your sake, and you’re here—you’re fine!”

“9S…” 2B began tentatively, unsure of how to register any of this new reality. The soil was stable, the wildlife was thriving, the buildings were intact, and the humans—the humans were…

“There’s so many of you in one place! Are there this many assigned to every one of these structures?” 9S inquired excitedly to the most eloquent of the small ~~androids~~ _humans_. “You’re so much smaller than I assumed you would be!”

“Are…are you really a human?” 2B choked out, her voice threatening to break. 

9S’s excitement immediately morphed into concern for his superior, and he felt wounded by the way her shoulders shook and her voice quivered.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he questioned her gently. In what little time he had known her, she had never been one to be emotional like this. She had always been authoritative, business-like in the way that she carried herself—whether in the middle of a mission or not.

“Lady, don’t cry! ‘Course we’re human!” one of the small humans exclaimed, speaking to the two of them for the first time.

2B fell to her knees with a strangled sob, bested by too many thoughts—too many feelings to process at once. Were there really humans here—wherever they were—wherever they had woken up? If there were humans, than there was nothing dangerous for 9S to find. There was no reason for YOHRA to find his inquisitive nature dangerous, and, subsequently, no reason he needed to die.

“2B—ma’am, what’s wrong?” 9S probed worriedly, reaching out a hand to place comfortingly upon her shoulder.

“Nine… _z_ ,” 2B whispered tentatively, the word feeling forbidden on her lips. 

9S’s brow furrowed in confusion at this—had she really just said that? But, how? How had she known to call him that? He hadn’t felt comfortable enough to tell her yet—tell her the name he preferred to be called.

“W-What did you say?” he blanched.

2B tilted her head downwards, thus causing her thick fringe of silvery hair to block her poignant gaze from 9S’s view. If there were humans, then there was no reason to keep her distance from him a moment longer. No reason to pretend that she did not care.

“ _NINES_!” she proclaimed, her voice a strange mixture of sadness and delight, as she sprang forward upon him in a desperate embrace. To be sure, she could not tell if this moment—this world was real where small humans roamed and 2E’s had no need for existence—she could not tell if this was reality or madness for the two of them, but, whatever the case, she would relish every second of time in which the world was not rooting against them.


End file.
